28.3.04

Last night during a smoke break that completely emptied the apartment (one guest smoked and the rest of us went outside to brace ourselves for the final course), one of our guests, in the course of an anecdote involving a dealer, the police, and the government of Wisconsin, uttered what could be a brilliant story title: "The Bureau of Warnings," which could be paired neatly with my other discovered title of the weekend: "The Circus of Despair." -Zh.